You Never Know
by Hidden Relevance
Summary: How Bobby got to know the best damned psychic in the state. Bobby/Pam


**So this is the other of the Secret Santa stories I forgot to crosspost. This is for Supernatural (obviously) and my giftee was definitely a Bobby fan and wanted something smutty. I have no idea how the request turned into this lol.**

**Again, anything you recognize belongs to the show's creators!  
><strong>

**You Never Know – A Bobby/Pamela Story for Lacrymosa-Fairy**

_First Impressions_

To say they got off on the wrong foot was probably putting it mildly. The first time around, Bobby couldn't stand her.

It started with a hunt. Most things did these days – at least they did for Bobby. Not much else happened, not unless he counted some random idiot rolling their Denali on the highway outside of town. And Bobby certainly didn't.

He'd been tracking a series of vicious child deaths, and the hunt had rubbed him all kinds of wrong. The patterns didn't fit the usual suspects of a Rawhead or Changelings or even a Weeping Woman, and even though he'd poked around and done more than even his usual amount of research, the trail'd gone awfully cold.

He'd made a couple calls, and a contact of his gave him the number for a psychic who was in the area and might be able to help. Based on the old boy's description of the psychic's credentials, Bobby'd expected another Missouri Mosely.

What he got was Pamela Barnes: a woman half his age with a libido that put Dean Winchester's to shame and a penchant for sass and tattoos.

She came on to him as part of her damned introduction. Could she stand to be a little professional? This was serious god damn it!

He expected to be making another set of calls in less than a minute, but then the woman up and surprised him.

Apparently she could pull off 'professional.' Pleasantries out of the way, she got down to business quick like and with the help of a few personal items from the missing and murdered kids, she located said kids andthe wanna-be Satanist pedophile who'd taken them.

Finding out it was just a normal run of the mill scumbag wasn't what he'd expected, but it wasn't the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. While Pamela lounged about his hotel room, Bobby and his contact at the local sheriff's office took care of the murdering sack of shit with very little fuss.

By the time he was done, whats-her-name had taken off with some suit she'd picked up in the hotel bar. She didn't come back, either.

Good riddance in Bobby's opinion.

_Second Look_

The next time they met up, she called 'called' wouldn't be accurate – Pamela showed up at his front door without even a courtesy phone call to warn him he'd have company. Probably smart on her part: he didn't have the chance to tell her no.

If it hadn't been for the sheer exhaustion on her face, he'd probably still have sent her ass packing. But she'd looked done in, and she needed a look through his library to try to pin down what sort of ugly son of a bitch a friend out on the coast was dealing with, and of course, how to stop and kill said ugly son of a bit. He'd long ago sworn to himself that any hunter could use his books as a last resort for research, that it would have a purpose. He couldn't hardly toss her out, not without making himself into an ass of a hypocrite.

She hadn't tested his patience this time, either, just went about her research with a will and a focus that reminded him of Sam Winchester at his academic best. It didn't take her long to find the Selkie lore she'd needed, but by then, Bobby wasn't as determined to make her leave right away. It wasn't just because he was half-sure she'd fall asleep behind the wheel, either. If he was willing to admit it to himself, he might have said he was impressed.

Once again, Pamela was proving her worth in this business, and she was doing so even at the expense of her own personal health this time.

So instead of showing her the door, he handed her his phone and told her to call to give the contact the info. When she hung up, he handed her a beer and a sandwich and gruffly told her to sit her ass down outside on the porch swing. It tended to be the best part of the house for sitting and resting. Least he'd always thought so.

Bobby wasn't the least bit surprised when she drifted off to sleep in less than half an hour. He just shook his head and draped a light blanket over her.

Damn woman was more trouble than she was worth, he thought, though there wasn't any malice to it.

_Third Times a Charm_

The next time they showed up in the same place at the same time, it was by accident, both chasing a lead: from the obits for him and from a hit off an old antique lady's toiletry set or something of the sort. It wasn't something he would have picked up in a flea market, that was for sure, but then, he wouldn't have sensed anything that might convince him to pick up anything as was the case for Pamela.

Either way, it was pretty damned helpful having two different perspectives and resources to track the spook – which turned out to be an aggravated banshee that had once been the owner of the aforementioned antiques. They wrapped up the case and sent the ghost bitch packing in next to no time, and then found themselves twiddling their thumbs in the small town roadhouse bar. One celebratory drink led to another friendly round and then to another shot and another beer and another and another.

Considering Pamela's… friendly personality, the fact that their friendly drinks turned into something else entirely shouldn't have come as a surprise. Still, Bobby wouldn't have expected himself to be quite as enthusiastic about the whole thing. Shit, she was half his age! That worked out pretty damned well for him though – shit if the girl didn't have energy for a marathon or more in bed. And against the wall, and out in the floor of his van. Not necessarily in that order.

She made _him_ feel half his age, and he certainly wasn't complaining about it.

'Course, she was gone bright and early, but he hadn't expected anything else. At least, she actually left her number and her real name as opposed to the normal wham bam thank you man and gone of some of the bar flies Dean regular took back to a hotel room. And he'd see her again for another job eventually.

Damn fine woman, he thought.


End file.
